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Sofia’s gown emerges as a masterpiece of midnight sapphire silk, its corseted bodice sculpted to perfection with silver-threaded constellations that mirror the palace’s celestial ceiling. Layers of tulle cascade like starlit mist beneath a fitted waist, each ripple catching light as though woven from moonlight itself. Detachable sleeves of Venetian lace drape delicately from her shoulders, framing wrists adorned with heirloom platinum cuffs set with moonstones. The skirt splits subtly at the front to reveal a underlayer of crushed velvet in royal cobalt, while the train sweeps behind her like a shadowy comet’s tail, pinned at her hip by a diamond brooch shaped into her family’s crest. She pairs it with elbow-length gloves dyed to match the deepest hue of the gown, their satin finish interrupted only by a single sapphire ring on her right hand. Her hair twists into a crown braid interlaced with tiny silver chains, supporting a tiara of white gold set with teardrop aquamarines—each stone whispered to have been plucked from a mermaid’s treasury. Forbidden from heels by royal decree after last year’s incident, she opts for velvet slippers dyed cobalt, their soles padded for stealthy midnight escapes. The final touch? A hidden pocket stitched into the skirt’s fold, large enough for a vial of perfume, a lockpick set, or a slice of lemon cake stolen from the dessert table.
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